Worth it's Weight in Lives
by Evil intent
Summary: What happens when a con and an FBI agent go against nature o protect priceless artifacts. Sorry the summary's bad but I promise the story's better


Authors Note: so this is pretty much a one shot- kind of. Its not exactly a full story. There will be whump, swearing, i don't really know. Its rated M for swearing This is my first fanfic so please be nice. It might be a little bit between chapters (if there are chapters) because i have a lot going on right now. This story was inspired by "Not About Angels" by Birdy. I hope you enjoy and review. Reviews make me happy. Thanks for baring with me. Love all you guys who are reading this. :)

Disclaimer: i do not own White Collar or its characters. Anything recognizable isn't mine. Thanks for reading:)

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter one:

Neal and Peter where transporting a shipment of priceless art. They had just foiled a plot to blow up the boat and replace it with their own. Complete with forgeries of every painting, sculpture, and document. They were supervising to make sure the plot didn't come to pass. It was just supposed to be a simple case. Supervise the shipment, catch the bad guys. But when does anything ever go as planed for the FBI and their criminal informant? Answer- never. They may have stopped the bad guys, but Mother Nature had more is store for them as they crossed the water.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter two:

"You don't get seasick do you Peter?" Neal called from across the boat.

"No!" Peter shouted back over the roar of the waves. Annoyance clearly evident in his voice. Neal could tell he was lying though. His knuckles were turning white as he grasped the rail like a life line.

"We need you two over here!" The captain shouted from the other side. "Help secure the crates!"

"We're coming!" Peter yelled back. He started walking just as another wave came slamming into the ship. Peter crashed into the side of the cabin and crumpled to the ground. Neal caught Peter hitting the deck out of the corner of his eye and started toward him.

"Peter!" He yelled, rushing at his friend. He dropped next to him just as he started sitting up. "Stay still." He commanded.

"Neal I'm fine." Peter grumbled trying to push past him.

"You're bleeding Peter." Neal countered. Watching as Peter reached up to touch his head, his eyes widening as it came away wet with blood. "You might have a concussion." Neal stated carefully.

"What the hell are you doing?!" The captain shouted from the front. "These waves are making things fly everywhere."

"They need us to help Neal." Peter said standing up, despite Neal's obvious protests. He was annoyed by Neal's pestering, and at the same time touched that he cared. Neal unwillingly stood up and followed Peter to the front. Only pausing to regain his balance after another gigantic wave crashed into the side of the boat.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter three:

Another waver came barreling into the ship, causing a crate of delicate ceramic sculptures to topple over. Neal lunged to catch the box before it committed suicide into the churning waves below. "Damn that was close." He swore, jumping again to catch a painting that came crashing down. A metallic bang sounded behind him and he spun around towards the noise. He saw Peter grasp a sixteenth century iron urn before it tumbled over the railing. He swore much harder then Neal had moments earlier.

"Neal, could use some help over here!" He shouted as another wave crashed down. This time striking the side of the boat and arching over, soaking everything in it's path. Including Peter.

"Busy!" He responded, catching a small glass case a miniature figures.

He saw a bulletproof suitcase tumble towards him and reached out to grab it.

"The Monet!" He heard the captain gasp behind him as he fought his own battle to control the ship in the raging waters. "Get it!" Neal stanched the case out of the air, inadvertently dripping the case. He winced as the cold metal hit his had. Half from the pain of the sudden weight, and half from the painful sound of the expensive figures shattering.

"Neal, move!" He heard Peter shout. He turned just in time to watch as the powerful wave crashed down on him.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter four:

Suddenly he couldn't breathe. It was like a huge weight had just been slammed into his chest. He felt the case slip from his grasp, but he didn't care. It felt as if all the air had been sucked from his chest. He gasped hopelessly, trying to get a breath, but only succeeded in pulling more water into his lungs. The pain continued for what seemed like eternity, but in reality was only a few seconds. "Neal!" He heard a voice cry, but it sounded distant. Then he was being pulled from the darkness and suddenly he could breathe. He sat there gasping for a few moments. It felt like he couldn't get enough air. "Neal, _are you okay_?" Peter asked again.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He replied hastily. "The Monet!" He gasped turning around to where he had been seconds before. Neal watched as the case teetered and fell over the edge. At that precise moment, the rope the deckhands had been securing snapped and the art it had been holding back pitched forward. Crashing down over the railing of the ship. Neal gasped as he stood helplessly, watching as centuries of priceless art fell into the water. He shook off his daze and took in his surroundings. Peter and the deckhands were desperately grasping at anything they could get their hands on and throwing it below deck. The captain was still struggling to keep the boat from toppling over, but no one was going after the Monet. It was clearly the single most valuable piece on the vessel, but no one trying to retrieve it. Perhaps they thought it gone, but Neal knew better. The case it had been in was a T.X 5700. It was built to withstand bullets, yet float for hours without allowing its contents become wet. Within seconds, Neal had made up his mind. He had to rescue the Monet, Peter and the deckhands had the rest covered.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter five:

He started in the direction the case had fallen. Reaching the railing, he searched the water anxiously. He saw crates and plastic wrapped paintings rolling over in the waves, but no sign of the silver case. "Neal what are you doing?" Peter shouted, "We need you over here!"

"Peter, the Monet!" Neal shouted, "It fell!"

"I know!" Came Peter's response, "Leave it and help us get the rest!"

"We've spent four weeks on locating that!" Neal shouted angrily. What was the point of being a slave to the F.B.I if none of the cases even stood for anything. This had started as an excuse to find Kate, but it soon evolved. The FBI and the people in it had become Neal's friends, no, his _family_. Sure, a dysfunctional family at best, but hey- family's family. It had gotten tiresome though. Especially since his freedom had been promised time and time again, but never followed through with. It was getting old. Neal was waiting for the day when he could just be with Peter as a friend, not undercover as art thieves.

"It doesn't matter Neal!" Peter shouted. "Help me get the rest!"

"I have to try!" Neal shouted, taking a deep breath. Peter realized what he was going to do too late. By the time he had fully registered what his CI was going to do, he had already shed his jacket and dove into the freezing water. Neal didn't think it would be this bad. After all, he had already been soaked by a colossal wave. He was wrong, he was dead wrong.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter five:

It was freezing. It was as if he had been dunked into a tank of ice water. The second he hit the waves his muscles seized up. The shock caused him to inhale mouthfuls of the frigid water. He came gasping up to the surface. "Neal!" He heard Peter shout, " Neal!" This time he sounded panicked. "Neal!" The panic was evident in his voice.

"I'm here Peter!" Neal shouted out to relieve his friend of his panic. He raised his hand up in a kind of half-wave. "I'm fine!" He added. He spun around in the water, hoping to spot the case. His wish was granted, floating approximately three meters to his left was the shiny case. "Oh thank God." He gasped quietly. "I found it!" He said, raising his voice. "Point two for the con." He whispered.

"Good!" Peter yelled, "grab it and get out if there. The water's freezing!"

"Agreed!" Neal shouted back. Thankful he would be exit the cold soon. He made his way over to the case, careful to dodge the crates in his way.

"Neal move!" Peter shouted as another box toppled into the water. Neal looked up, a flash of recognition in his eyes. He tried to dodge the large projectile, but his normal cat-like reflexes had abandoned him to the arctic water. The crate crashed into him, shoving him beneath the surface and instantly causing him to lose conciseness.

"Neal move!" Peter had shouted. He was too late. The box slammed into him, easily dragging his thin frame under with it. "Shit!" Peter cried. "Someone! I need help!" One of the deckhands appeared at his side.

"What happened?" He asked

"My partner-he fell overboard, I can't see him." Peter responded

"The hell did he do that for?" The deckhand asked.

"He dove in to retrieve the Monet. A crate hit him and he went under." Peter said breathlessly. "Why does it matter, just help him!"

"We can't send anyone in." The man said. "The waves are too rough. We can't risk it."

"He's down there. Every second we spend talking is a second he can't afford to lose." Peter stated impatiently. "Can't you help him?"

"We've got a man from Coast Guard below decks." He said. "I'll see what I can do. Keep looking for him,

maybe he'll surface."

"Damn it Neal." Peter whispered. "Where the hell are you?" He leaned over the railing. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his partner. He kept thinking the worst. _What if he drowned? What if the blow to his head killed him? What if he washed up on an island and died of dehydration?_ He kept thinking the worst. Barely a minute after his argument with the deckhand, a man wearing a Coast Guard uniform hurried over to him.

"Have you spotted him?" The man asked. The patch on his jacket read "Wilson".

"No." Peter responder shortly. He was growing agitated that more people weren't trying to help get his partner back.

"Well keep looking." Wilson said, "sometimes it's hard to see through the waves." After another painstaking minute, Wilson spotted him. "Is that him?" He asked. Pointing to a body floating atop a briefcase.

"Yes,yes it's him!" Peter agreed excitedly. He was alive. Thank God, Neal was alive. Wilson didn't waste any time. The second Neal was pointed out he was grabbing a life jacket and a floating ring and diving into the water. He swam expertly towards Neal's limp body. Peter became more worried every second. Why wasn't Neal acknowledging the fact he was being saved? Could he be- no, no. Neal's fine, he's always fine. But the lies Peter was telling himself weren't calming his nerves. He wouldn't calm down until Neal was sitting in front of him.

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Worth it's Weight in Lives

Chapter six:

When Wilson finally reached the man he could tell something was wrong. He still wasn't moving. He knew what he was doing though. He looped the ring under Neal's arms and took the case out from under him. Then he slowly pulled both of them back towards the boat. The waves were already calming and Wilson figured by the time he reached the boat the storm would have settles enough that he could call air support and get them all out of there.

It seemed like eternity by the time Wilson returned with Neal. He slung his limp body over his shoulder and climbed up the ladder. Peter rushed over to meet him just as he was laying Neal on the ground. Peter skidded to a stop when he realized Neal still wasn't moving. He dropped to the ground at Neal's head as Wilson started giving him CPR. After every fifth compression, Wilson leaned his head to Neal's mouth in hope of breath. Each time he was disappointed. Finally, at the sixth round, Neal breathed. He gasped for air, turning his head to the side to cough out water. For a few seconds he laid there, struggling to breathe.

"He's alright now." Wilson told Peter. "I'll call Mercy Flight."

"Thank you," Peter said, breathing a sigh of relief. He turned his attention to Neal. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah- I'm okay." He responded. "What happened?"

"After you dove in to get that Monet you were hit by a flying crate. It knocked you out. You scared the crap out if me. I thought you were dead."

"Sorry." Neal replied sheepishly.

"It's fine. Just don't make a habit out of it." Peter said.

"Agreed."

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FINISHED

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